


Careful

by carxies



Series: Matsuhana [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Disabled Character, Getting Together, M/M, Slow Burn, hello this is what i call sad fluff, idk I had this started for ages, like actual months
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8083903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carxies/pseuds/carxies
Summary: The world is blurry and ugly when he looks around; but then again, maybe that’s just the tears in his eyes. He wipes them away like he expects them not to return – they do though. A thin line of the sun rays peeks into the hall through the small gap through the half closed door. Hanamaki looks down at the flowers in his hand – sunflowers, beautiful but even they seem to sadden in front of Matsukawa’s room. They scream friendship and it’s funny, really, to give Matsukawa the flowers that symbolize platonic love.





	

The usually loud room is so quiet a growth of the plants on the shelves could be heard if only Hanamaki’s heart wasn’t beating so loud in his chest. If only his breaths weren’t this heavy. He’s been there so many time; too many times, perhaps. He knows the room so well he doesn’t need a light to know where exactly what is. And yet it feels so strange, although _he’s been there so many times_. He couldn’t count them and he doesn’t remember them all, however they all hold certain value and contain memories – some more important, some less, but all precious.

 

They’ve done their homework there, they’ve laughed and stayed up all night; and they also cried themselves to sleep after their losses only to get up and fight again. They’ve played childish games and they have also shared the deepest secrets; they have fought there and then grown closer. 

 

But right now Matsukawa’s room is a cursed place, playing dirty tricks with Hanamaki.

 

His throat is dry and his stomach is sick and he hasn’t been this nervous since his first day of high school. He met Matsukawa back then - shorter, with high pitched boyish voice; also with love and passion for the same sport, and Hanamaki could think only one thing about this dark haired boy: _a one day to be perfect diamond, rough for now._

 

For a while now, the statement is different. Matsukawa still has some of his own rough edges three years later, but in Hanamaki’s eyes he shines brighter than any other.

 

The world is blurry and ugly when he looks around; but then again, maybe that’s just the tears in his eyes. He wipes them away like he expects them not to return – they do though. A thin line of the sun rays peeks into the hall through the small gap through the half closed door. Hanamaki looks down at the flowers in his hand – sunflowers, beautiful but even they seem to sadden in front of Matsukawa’s room. They scream _friendship_ and it’s funny, really, to give Matsukawa the flowers that symbolize platonic love.

 

He has considered his options, of course he has. He has thought of the scenario where he takes Matsukawa somewhere nice and quiet, just like he likes it, and they would talk – about everything and nothing – and then Hanamaki would spill his feelings. Or maybe they would go eat some junk food and laugh at stupid jokes – and then Hanamaki would say these words. Perhaps they would stay in, watch a movie and comment it – and then Hanamaki would confess.

 

It never happens. It all stays hidden deep in his heart, somewhere where even Matsukawa cannot reach. There might be a dagger slipping through his rips every time Matsukawa appreciates his as a friend, but he will smile his best smile nevertheless.

 

With somehow steady mind and shaky hands, he quietly slips in the room to find his best friend dreaming about god knows what. He looks peaceful enough and Hanamaki hopes he has only good dreams, about things Matsukawa likes: food, not having to get up before 11 am, volleyball, oversized sweaters and small animals. He sits beside him, careful not to be too close, to stay in the zone of friendship. He places the flowers on the nightstand by Matsukawa’s bed and he waits, waits and waits.

 

Matsukawa wakes up about two hours later, yet Hanamaki still isn’t ready to face him; not even infinity would give him enough time to prepare. A pair of dark sleepy eyes asks him questions Hanamaki asks himself and he opens his mouth, only to close it again. He inhales and takes his phone, typing simple words.

 

‘How are you feeling?’

 

The dark haired boy repeats Hanamaki’s mistake – he parts his lips, takes a breath and the next second shuts his mouth, a scowl appearing on his face while he gulps loudly as if to say ‘ _right’_. He reaches for his own phone and lets his fingers slide over the display until he holds the device up in front of Hanamaki’s eyes.

 

‘Been better.’

 

Hanamaki turns his gaze away and nods, guiltily, and he picks up the flowers and shoves them in Matsukawa’s direction. Maybe if he wasn’t staring holes into his jeans, he would have seen the sad smile on his friend’s face as he accepts the sunflowers. They sit like that for a while, in complete silence, avoiding each other and yet longing to be closer. No one breaks the cursed silence.

 

‘Want me to leave?’ Hanamaki types few minutes later, his fingers still trembling.

 

He’s gripping the phone tightly; afraid it will slip out of his hand as he holds it for Matsukawa to read. The boy shakes head and pats the space beside him. Hanamaki gets the clue and lies next to him, his body stiff and his arms pressed against it. Having Hanamaki on the other side of the bed is enough comfort for Matsukawa’s eyelids to become heavy with sleep again and soon he’s gone once more. He falls asleep curled into himself, the duvet messily thrown over him. Hanamaki fixes it, careful not to brush his fingers over Matsukawa’s warm skin, careful to stay in the line.

 

 

_**_

 

 

The sunflowers die four days later. Matsukawa forgot to put them in water. Hanamaki doesn’t blame him.

 

 

**

 

Hanamaki returns each day, at the same time, with the same emotions bubbling inside. He sits on Matsukawa’s bed, careful to keep space between them, careful not to brush his fingers over Matsukawa’s skin.

 

He isn’t sure if he’s much of use for his friend; he only sits there every day, quiet, and watches his friend learn and struggle with his disability. But every time Hanamaki closes his eyes, he can hear Matsukawa laugh, deep and rough. He can hear his sarcasm thick voice replying to his own, he can almost hear those words Hanamaki craves.

 

He is brought back to reality, rather cruel; when Matsukawa shuts his laptop closed and tosses it on the other side of the bed. Hanamaki’s eyes follow the motion before they find their way to meet Matsukawa’s dark ones. Hanamaki’s stomach turns at the sight – he’s only seen Matsukawa cry few times during their friendship and he hated it every single time. He reaches for his friend’s laptop and opens it again, studying the sing Matsukawa is struggling with. He places the device on his lap and slowly repeats it according to the video. When he looks up at the dark haired boy again, he still has tears in his eyes, but he’s smiling as well.

 

And the words slip out for the first time before Hanamaki can stop them.

 

“I love you,” he whispers, stunned as he stares directly at Matsukawa.

 

They say that love always win, but Hanamaki knows his words will lose – they won’t reach Matsukawa, not now, probably not ever. It fully hits him then. He won’t be able to tell him anything ever again. He will never be able to tell Matsukawa that the school uniform _does_ suit him, no matter what other say. He won’t be able to mock Oikawa’s voice during his captain speeches.

 

He tears his eyes away from his friend, gazing back at the monitor to finally read the meaning of the sign.

 

_Friendship._

Hanamaki remembers the dead sunflowers.

 

**

 

 

They still have hard time communicating; Hanamaki isn’t as fast learner as Matsukawa is, even though he studies with him every day. When he wants to tell something other than ‘hungry’ or ‘see you’, he has to get his phone, which isn’t always by his hand. It wouldn’t be that big of a problem if only he didn’t see the broken expression on Matsukawa’s face each time.

 

The best connection they have now is invisible, inaudible, unnoticeable.

 

 

**

 

It’s only darkness of the late night and the two of them, a wide palm held in the air in front of Hanamaki, waiting. Even without the lights on, he can see Matsukawa watching him, seated across Hanamaki in his pyjama, curious and expecting. A breath hitching in his throat, Hanamaki raises his own hand, stopping only inch or so from Matsukawa’s. He avoids his gaze and focuses on their hands instead, the contrast between Matsukawa’s tanned skin and Hanamaki’s pale one. He gathers enough courage to look up seconds later.

 

He stares into Matsukawa’s eyes as the soft skin of the fingertip of his pinkie finally presses against Matsukawa’s, so gently he wouldn’t feel it if it wasn’t for the warmth spreading from his hand to his whole body. The rest of their fingers connect then, one by one, slowly, carefully, _carefully_ , as if something could go wrong if they rushed. They stay like this for few minutes, maybe infinity, just the tips of their fingers touching, palms inches apart.

 

 It slips out again. “I love you,” Hanamaki breathes out, honestly and unintentionally. But he's sure that Matsukawa cannot hear him; and never will. The fact doesn’t make it okay, but a little more bearable.

 

The dark haired man gives him a puzzled look, and then presses forward until his palm is against Hanamaki’s, testing the waters. Hanamaki lets him, blinking his tears away before Matsukawa can notice them.

 

 

**

 

The first time Matsukawa leaves his room again is after almost two months. Hanamaki promises his mother to look after him, although he himself needs someone to look after him.

 

They go the park; the one that Matsukawa likes because he can play with the kids there. But he can’t call any of them closer and he only hopelessly watches them until Hanamaki can’t take it anymore and drags him away.

 

Matsukawa doesn’t like that park anymore.

 

He cries then, when he’s back home, curled on his bed and pushing his friend and mother away. Hanamaki promises to come back the next day.

 

 

**

 

Matsukawa gazes at him with a smile on his face, small but real, as he shows Hanamaki that he can sign a whole paragraph of his favourite book now. When he finishes, his smile turns into a grin, something so familiar and yet foreign to Hanamaki past these weeks.

 

“I love you,” he mutters and hates himself for it.

 

 

**

 

It’s been three months now, three months since Hanamaki received the call. ‘ _Issei is okay ..  The head injury caused .. He’s deaf.’_ His mother didn’t use these words, but they’re all Hanamaki remembers other than the world falling apart around him.

 

It starts to snow outside when Matsukawa’s mother refuses to let him inside the house.

 

‘He doesn’t need a distraction,’ she says.

‘My son is going through a lot now, you should understand that,’ she says.

‘I think he will be better off alone for a while,’ she says.

 

“He needs a friend, not-“ She shakes head and closes the door.

 

 

Hanamaki agrees.

 

 

**

 

It’s few days after the New year when Matsukawa shows up at his door. He’s holding flowers and before Hanamaki can do anything, he shoves them into Hanamaki’s arms. Hanamaki steps aside and gestures for him to enter. He leads the dark haired boy to his room.

 

The room is so quiet a growth of the plants on the shelves could be heard if only Hanamaki’s heart wasn’t beating so loud in his chest. If only his breaths weren’t this heavy. Matsukawa’s been there so many time; too many times, perhaps. He knows the room so well he doesn’t need a light to know where exactly what is. And yet it feels so strange to have him here again, although _he’s been there so many times_. He couldn’t count them and he doesn’t remember them all.

 

Matsukawa holds his phone up with a note opened on the display.

 

‘I remembered the movements of your lips to ask my mom what you kept mumbling’

 

Hanamaki doesn’t reply. He sits on the bed and stares at the flowers on his lap – he doesn’t know them, but they’re beautiful and probably expensive. He notices the small card attached to them.

 

‘If you loved me, why did you leave me?’

 

His heart skips a beat. The world is blurry when he looks up at Matsukawa, who is watching him the whole time; but then again, maybe that’s just the tears in his eyes. He doesn’t bother with them.

 

He puts the flowers down, carefully, and he’s finally _done_ with _carefully_ as he leaps at Matsukawa, arms thrown around his neck and their foreheads pressed together just for a second before they’re kissing.

 

 

**

 

They sit in front of each other, knees touching. Hanamaki watches the moves of Matsukawa’s hands closely, copying them with his own. Matsukawa nods in approval and then holds his hand up in the air. Hanamaki’s fingers slide between Matsukawa’s easily.


End file.
